


True Love’s Kiss

by hermioneclone



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Klaine AU Fridays, M/M, Sleeping Beauty Elements, fairytale, fairytale!klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28224600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermioneclone/pseuds/hermioneclone
Summary: After being cursed by Badfarie Sylvester, Prince Kurt is sent away for his own protection. Will a chance encounter reveal his true destiny and his true love? A Sleeping Beauty inspired retelling.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel





	True Love’s Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> **Original Author's Note, July 7, 2012:** This is my fill for Klaine AU Friday for fairytale week! I am using Sleeping Beauty, though mostly from the Disney version since I know it better/fit the story better. Also, I know Sue isn’t this bad, but I needed a villain. :)
> 
>  **Warning:** Contains some meta and lots of absurdness. Also, it got later and later as I wrote this, so if the end gets a bit foggy, that’s why. :)
> 
>  **Author's Note January 2021:** When I originally wrote this story, Glee hadn't decided to write Beiste as a trans character yet. Most of my older fic I have posted here I have not made substantive edits to, however I decided to make an exception to this one because I was not comfortable with the way it read as is. The only changes I am making involve fixing names and gendered terms to avoid deadnamming etc, with a few tweaks for flow. The original can be found at the link below.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Link](https://hermioneclone.tumblr.com/post/26678650815/true-loves-kiss)

Once upon a time, there was a king named Burt. He ruled over all the Land of Hummel as far as the eye could see and was married to the most beautiful woman in the land, Elizabeth. The two were very happy, and were even more ecstatic when they learned that they were going to have a child, a son. They were so overjoyed that they threw a banquet for all to attend to celebrate the birth of their child, Prince Kurt, they named him.

The party was held the eighth day after Prince Kurt was born. Everyone was invited, including the three good faeries, Beiste, Schuester and Pillsbury. Each of the faeries announced that they had a gift for the new Prince to help him grow into a strong and wise ruler. Goodfaerie Beiste offered the gift of strength, so that Prince Kurt could overcome all of his adversaries. Goodfaerie Schuster offered the gift of song so that Prince Kurt would never forget the simple things in life that make it worth living. But just as Goodfaerie Pillsbury was about to offer her gift, an unexpected (and unwelcome) guest appeared.

The doors of the hall burst open to reveal Badfaerie Sylvester, carrying the horn of some unfortunate beast, which she brought to her lips to amplify her speech. “Why was I not invited? Have I not brought prosperity to this land for seven years in a row? The gifts I can give your miniature poodle are vastly superior to whatever these fluffheads have offered.” Her pet, a sleek fox the color of midnight, wound between her legs, beady eyes locked on the infant, as if it wanted him for a midday snack.

“Badfaerie Sylvester-”

“I resent that,” she retorted angrily.

“You earned that title when you were banished from the land. Yes, you have power, but you abused it. You were banished. This is your punishment.”

“You are wrong, King Burt. It will be your punishment. For a faerie scorned is not a matter which should be taken lightly. I could have given your child many great things, but you leave me no choice. On his eighteenth birthday, Prince Kurt shall prick his finger on a spindle and fall dead.” She pointed her horn at the child, and green glitter spewed toward the child, blaring sharply before disappearing. Everyone in the hall gasped.

Goodfaerie Schuster stepped forward. “Sue, don’t you think that’s a little bit extreme?”

“Extreme is my middle name, William,” she spat back viciously. “Go big or go home. Which is exactly what I will do now. Farewell, except I don’t with any of you well, you lousy excuses for humanity.” With that she stormed out as suddenly as she swept in, her fox trailing after her.

Queen Elizabeth began to sob uncontrollably over her child. “We have to do something,” she told her husband through her tears, bright blue eyes determined. “We have to save him. We shall destroy every spindle in the land.”

King Burt shook his head sadly. “We mere mortals don’t have the power to change this.”

Goodfaerie Pillsbury stepped forward. “You may not, but I do.” She picked up the small baby, stroking his pale cheek. “I can’t remove the curse entirely, Badfaerie Sylvester is too powerful for that. But Prince Kurt will not die on his eighteenth birthday; rather, he and the entire palace will fall into a deep slumber, only to be awoken by true love’s kiss.” She rifled through her robes and pulled out a pamphlet entitled, “What to do When your Child’s been Cursed”.

“Thank you, Goodfaerie.” King Burt whispered, taking the child back into his arms, choking back tears of his own. He looked down at his son sadly. “He won’t be safe here, will he.” It was a statement, not a question. He knew the answer.

“I’m afraid not,” Goodfaerie Pillsbury replied sadly. “I am sure that nasty Badfaerie will have something up her sleeve. He needs magical protection.”

Queen Elizabeth stood up next to her husband. “Will you take care of him?”

Goodfaerie Pillsbury nodded solemnly. “We will guard him with our lives.

Elizabeth took the child from his father’s arms. “Then that is what we must do.” She leaned down and kissed the child on the forehead. “Farewell, sweet prince.” Little did she know as she handed the child over to the Goodfaerie that it would be the last time she would see her son. Before another seven years were out, she would be struck down with the same violent plague that would wipe out half of the people in the land, leaving King Burt a lonely widow.

But for now, they thought they were doing what was best for their son.

They could only hope they were right.

* * *

Prince Kurt ran until he couldn’t breath, sobs wracking his body. Only, he didn’t know that he was Prince Kurt. All his life (or all that he could remember, that is) had been spent in a little cottage in the woods, with his Aunt Emma and Uncles Sheldon and Will. And they called him Thornbud. Well, they only called him that when he was in trouble, which was a rare occurrence. Usually he was just called Buddy.

They lived a simple life, but they were happy. Buddy often asked when he was younger where his mother and father were. His mother, he was told, had died in the plague, and his father was too grief stricken to care for him. But Buddy could never remember his father. Every year, on his birthday, a magnificent present would appear from this mysterious figure who never seemed to forget about the child he couldn’t bear to see. Buddy appreciated it, but he often would lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling until the wee hours, wondering what his life would be like if he had grown up with his father. He was happy, Uncle Will and Uncle Sheldon were great father figures, but it felt like something was missing.

Buddy wasn’t like the other boys in the village. While most of the boys his age were running around with girls, some even getting married, Buddy had no interest. It had terrified him when he had come to the realization, but he liked boys. But not the boys in the village. Sure, some of them were extremely attractive, and it was hard not to look as they lugged their daily wares, but they were morons. Buddy heard of places where it was okay to be like he was (he had confided in his aunts and uncle, who had thankfully been wonderfully supportive), but this village certainly wasn’t one of them.

It didn’t help that he also was fond of clothes, more specifically making them. He had never understood his guardians' hesitancy to let him use a needle and thread, but he was thankful that they agreed. He understood even less why spindles were forbidden, not just in their home, but in all the land. It seemed absurd. But from an early age he had been shown pictures and received harsh instructions to avoid the object at all costs. It had been the only rule his family had ever been firm with.

Buddy loved making clothes. It soothed him, and he loved making presents for his family. He sometimes wondered how they managed to find such good fabric for him to work on; they didn’t make very much in the marketplace. Still, he was grateful, contributing to their meager earnings by making garments to sell alongside their potatoes and berries.

That was where he had been, in the market. He had managed to sell everything for once, when he was cornered by some of the seedier boys. It hadn’t taken much for them to hold him down, searching his pockets for his hard earned gold, blatantly ignoring his cries of protest. But it wasn’t even the loss of the money that stung the most. They called him such awful names…he figured he should be used to it; they had called him those names for years now. But it still hurt just as much every time and left him shaking.

So he had ran until he came to a stream. Buddy fell to his knees by the water’s edge, letting his head fall into his hands as he cried. He ripped off the red bow tie he was wearing, flinging it on the ground. He loved the garment, but it felt like it was suffocating him, just like his whole life. But suddenly he realized he wasn’t alone. There was movement near him, and he flinched, instinctively preparing himself for a blow. “Please, don’t hurt me, I don’t have any money, I swear, I was just robbed.”

Buddy peaked to see who his attacker and his heart jumped into his throat. The man (who wasn’t attacking him at all; he looked worried and concerned more than anything) was beautiful. The most beautiful man Buddy had ever laid eyes on. Not to mention well dressed. Extremely well dressed. Buddy examined his attire more closely, realizing that this had to be a royal. “It’s okay,” the man assured him, holding his hands in the air. “I’m not going to hurt you. Are you okay?”

Buddy started to nod, but his head shook in the negative on its own accord. “No,” he gasped, voice choked and raw from his tears, more of which were threatening to spill. _Great first impression._

The man approached him slowly, crouching down next to Buddy. Tentatively, he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Is there anything I can do?”

Buddy shook his head vigorously. “There’s nothing anyone can do, your highness,”

His companion shook his head, curls shaking free. “None of that,” he chided. “I don’t like titles. I’m just a person like anyone else.”

“Who happens to live in a palace.”

The man rolled his eyes. “I never said I did.”

“But you do, don’t you.”

The man shifted next to him, pulling something out of his pocket. “Yes," he replied, his tone indicating that the conversation clearly was no longer going in that direction. “How much did they take from you?”

Buddy scrunched up his face in thought. “Um, ten, maybe twelve gold pieces? I had just finished selling my wares at the market…why?”

The man poured more money than Buddy had ever seen in his life onto the palm of his hand. He counted it out carefully, sliding the extra back in the pouch. The man pressed the coins, much more than had been taken, into Buddy’s palm. “Make up for what you lost and your troubles.”

Buddy refused to take it. “I don’t need your charity,” he muttered, harsher than he intended. “I can’t take this.”

The man shook his head. “It’s not charity. It’s a gift. I want you to take it.”

Buddy finally relented. “Fine. But…I don’t understand…why?”

The other man looked shy. “Because I think you’d look really beautiful when you smile, and I wanna see it. So I want to make you smile. Selfish, really, when you think about it.”

Buddy’s heart was pounding in his ears. This other man, this strange royal had just told him he was beautiful. “You can’t be real,” he whispered, not even realizing that he said the words aloud. “I feel like I’ve seen you before,”

“Once, upon a dream, perhaps?” the man, no, he was probably just a boy too, about Buddy’s age, asked.

“Maybe.” They’re faces had moved closer and closer to each other as they spoke, as if drawn in by some mysterious magnetic field. The boy’s eyes flitted down, looking at Buddy’s lips. He leaned closer.

And Buddy jumped back, suddenly terrified. “I can’t do this,” he muttered, turning and fleeing, not looking back at the bewildered man he left behind. The man he was convinced he was in love with. The man who could never be with him, because he was a poor peasant, not a royal.

"Wait!” the man called after him as he dashed off into the woods. “I don’t even know your name!”

* * *

Buddy (who you’ll remember was really Prince Kurt) was shaking by the time he stumbled up to the shack he shared with his guardians. He knew he shouldn’t have run. He had felt things in those few minutes he had never thought possible. And he didn’t even know the other man’s name. He would never see him again.

But all he could see was his bright face, the way his brow scrunched up in concern. The way his curls fell in haphazard beauty. The shyness in his voice when he said Buddy was beautiful.

No one had ever called him beautiful before. Well, his guardians had, but they were different. They loved him, cared for him. Of course they would say it, it was part of the job description. But this stranger…

Buddy had seen something in his eyes right before he ran. A sort of awe and longing. While the other man had looked at him. It made no sense. No one had looked at him that way before. But he was pretty sure that he had the same expression in his own eyes.

He stumbled in the door. His Aunt Emma smiled as he entered, just pulling dinner out of the oven. She quickly set down the food and rushed across the meticulously clean kitchen to wrap Buddy in a hug, immediately understanding something was amiss. Buddy melted into her warm embrace; Aunt Emma’s hugs were magical. He finally let loose all of the tears he had been fighting back since leaving the clearing, sobbing into her shoulder as she traced soothing circles on his back. Once he had calmed a bit, she asked softly, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Buddy sniffed loudly, wiping his nose on his sleeve, not caring about ruining the fabric. “I hate my life,” he muttered into her shoulder. Emma exchanged a look with Will and Sheldon, who had both wandered in at the smell of dinner.

“You’re not happy here with us?” Emma asked softly, looking as if she were about to cry as well.

Buddy pulled back and plopped himself into a seat. “Of course I am happy with you,” he assured her. “All of you,” he added, glancing at his Uncles. “But I’m so different, I’m not like the other boys. I don’t belong here."

"Oh Buddy," Uncle Sheldon sighed. "You know that I'm not like the other boys either. Doesn't mean I don't belong here, and the same goes for you."

Buddy knew that his uncle spoke true, yet he felt unable to let go of the rebellious thoughts spinning through his head. "I wish…I wish I was a royal,” he sighed, laughing at how pathetic he sounded.

“Why would you say something like that, Bud?” Uncle Will asked cautiously.

Buddy shrugged. “I just met the man of my dreams. But he’s a royal, probably a prince with my luck. What would a royal want to do with a poor peasant boy like me?”

His guardians exchanged another significant glance. He was about to ask what it was all about, when Uncle Sheldon spoke. “I think we need to tell him.”

Aunt Emma bit her lip nervously. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Shell…”

“Tell me what?” Buddy asked, suddenly feeling inexplicably nervous.

Uncle Will placed a hand on Aunt Emma’s shoulder. “We knew this day was coming, Em,”

She shook her head. “Soon, but not today.”

Buddy stood. “Yes, today. I want to know what you’re keeping from me!” They were scaring him. They had always been honest with him. Or so he had thought.

Aunt Emma inhaled deeply. “Fine. But for the record I think we should wait.”

Uncle Will walked over to Buddy. “Bud, I think you should sit down for this.”

“That bad?”

Uncle Will chuckled. “Bad, no. But it might be a bit of a shock.”

“Just tell me,” Buddy demanded anxiously.

Aunt Emma and Uncle Sheldon pulled up some chairs and sat on either side of his uncle, who had claimed a chair opposite Buddy. "Well, for starters, your name isn’t Thornbud.”

Buddy, or whoever he was, gasped in shock. “Of course it is, it always has been.”

Uncle Sheldon shook her head. “It’s not the name your parents gave you.”

The boy took a shaky breath. “Then what name did they give me?” His voice was softy, weak with shock.

“Kurt,” Aunt Emma told him with a small smile. She dipped her hand in a pocket and pulled out a pamphlet called, “So, You Just Found Out Your Life is a Lie…Or is it?”. He took it, but couldn’t focus on the words.

Kurt. It was a nice name, much nicer than Thornbud. Much less likely to be made fun of with a name like Kurt. “Why did you, or whoever change it?” he demanded.

“To protect you,” Uncle Sheldon told him sadly.

Kurt frowned. “Protect me? From what?”

Uncle Will looked at him sadly. “More like from whom.”

They told him everything, from the fact that they were faeries, the fact that Kurt was in fact the son of King Burt, the fact that Kurt had been cursed as a child, how they tried to keep him safe.

“We knew we had to tell you sooner or later, with your birthday coming up.”

“Only a few days,” Kurt muttered, slightly terrified.

“It’ll be okay, sweetie, We’ll look out for you.”

Kurt sighed. “What now?”

Aunt Emma smiled. “Now we take you home.

* * *

Several years before our story takes place, King Burt had taken a second woman as his wife. Queen Carole had lost her husband when he went off to battle in the eastern regions, leaving her in control of Hudson Valley. They had a young son, Prince Finn, but he was too young to rule.

Some had questioned her authority, questioned if she, as a woman could rule. Yet Queen Carole proved to a more fit leader than her late husband, quashing any hints of rebellion with her love and wit. She was more than capable of ruling over the Valley.

Her son, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely.

While Queen Carole loved her son, Finn wasn’t what one would call the leader type. Sure he tried, but he always said the wrong thing in negotiations or would stumble into their guests when he got nervous. And there had been that scandal with Lady Quinn before he finally settled down with Lady Rachel. Frankly, Queen Carole was terrified that her lands would one day be ruled (or rather misruled) by her son. So she carefully decided to remarry. It initially had served as a way to preserve her kingdom in capable hands, however once she had encountered King Burt, something happened which she would have never expected.

She fell in love.

The two were married soon after they met, the attraction mutually embraced. King Burt was the jolliest anyone had seen him since the birth of his son. He enjoyed having Finn around, even with all his flaws. But Queen Carole knew that he missed his son. She wondered what Kurt was like, if she would ever meet him. But she knew the stakes of the game.

The day word was sent that Prince Kurt was returning to the palace, everyone was buzzing with nervous excitement. King Burt ordered a thorough search of the castle to ensure that there were no wayward spindles lying about, willing to take no chances. A great feast was planned in Prince Kurt’s honor.

King Burt was nervous that day, not sure quite what to expect. He knew that the reasons for sending Kurt away were logical, had been for the boy’s own good. But it was possible the boy resented him now, convinced that he had been abandoned, unloved. But nothing could be further from the truth. The boy was brought in to his inner chambers by the Goodfaeries. The only other person in the room was Carole. The rest could come later.

King Burt inhaled sharply when he saw his son. He was tall, lean, and handsome in a delicate way. He looked so much like his mother. Their eyes met, and for a second he was looking into those of his late wife. The boy looked nervous, biting his lip the way his mother used to. King Burt stood as the boy approached them. The Goodfaeries bowed, and Kurt, seeing the motion, began to copy. King Burt stopped him. "There is no need to be so formal.”

Kurt nodded awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Yes, sir. Hello, father.” The word sounded strange to both of them. King Burt had never been called father before.

Burt waved a hand dismissively. “What did I just say? Please, at least call me Burt. Or Dad if you wish.”

“Dad,” Kurt said slowly, adjusting to how the word felt on his tongue. Much better.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

Kurt jerked his head in acknowledgement. “Yeah,”

“I thought about you every day, you know. The Faeries told you everything, right?”

“Yeah.”

Burt shook his balding head, reaching out to grip Kurt’s hands in his own. He was grateful when the boy didn’t pull away. “I sometimes wonder if sending you away was the best solution. We missed so much together…”

“It’s okay,” Kurt informed him, though his voice clearly said it was not.

“C'mere,” Burt muttered, pulling Kurt into a warm embrace, holding him tightly. The boy stiffened at first, but soon relaxed. There was something oddly comforting about the hug, as if this was what had been missing his entire life. “I love you, Kurt,” Burt whispered into his son’s ear, and a few sniffs told Kurt that his father was fighting back tears as well. Kurt gripped tighter, never wanting to let go, finally feeling like he belonged.

Both father and son sported red-rimmed eyes as they pulled away. “I still can’t believe I’m a royal…”

Burt grinned. “You’d better believe it, kiddo.”

Kurt turned to the woman next to his father. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. “I’m Queen Carole, your father’s wife.”

“So my mother really is dead,” Kurt whispered softly.

Burt clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m afraid so. She fought as hard as she could, but the plague was just too much for her.”

Kurt turned to his stepmother. “A pleasure to meet you,”

Carole beamed. “Likewise. Welcome home, Kurt.”

It finally was starting to feel like home.

* * *

Prince Blaine had no idea what just happened.

He was half convinced that the boy was a figment of his imagination. He had been so ethereally beautiful that he almost forgot how to breathe. That he had to fight back the urge to wipe those tears off of his gorgeous face. He had never been in love before, but something in the back of his mind told him this is what it felt like.

He looked back to the spot where he had found the boy. There was a bright red scrap of cloth where he had been sitting. Blaine picked it up, examining it carefully. It was an artfully made bow tie, the best he’d ever see. And much better than anything he would have expected from a peasant boy. He pocketed the garment, hoping someday to return it to its owner.

Sighing, Prince Blaine strode back to his horse, slid into the saddle and headed home to the neighboring kingdom of Andersonia. The ride was uneventful but long, and soon Blaine was lost in his thoughts. All he could think of was the boy and the ache in his chest when he realized he would probably never see him again.

Several days later, he galloped up to his family’s castle. It was made of marble, beautiful but cold. Blaine was glad that it would be going to his brother Prince Cooper and not him. He wanted to get far, far away from there and never come back. He was just handing his trusty steed over to the groom when he was approached by his father. They bowed formally in greeting. “How was your journey?” the elder Anderson inquired.

Blaine shrugged. “It went well, I suppose.” He hesitated, not sure if he should risk bringing up the boy. “I met someone along the way.”

“A girl?” his father asked hopefully. Blaine shook his head, his curls tumbling around his face. The other man’s face fell. “Oh. You’re…in love with this person, aren’t you.”

“How did you know?”

“It’s written all over your face, son.”

“I know we’ve talked about this before, but why not? I’m not going to rule; it doesn’t matter who I marry.”

“You know my position on this matter, Blaine,” his father replied sharply.

“I’m not marrying Princess Kara, I’ve already told you.”

The king raised his hand to silence his son. “I know. That is why I have found a compromise. The Prince of the Land of Hummel has just resurfaced, and is in search of a mate. A male companion, as it were. I have talked to his father, and if the Prince consents, you two shall be wed.

Blaine felt as if something was clutching at his heart. "But I don’t want to marry this Prince whatever his name is.”

“Kurt,” his father supplied.

“This Prince Kurt. I want to marry the boy from the woods.”

His father sighed. “Blaine, you don’t even know his name, how will you ever find him? Besides, you have two choices. You marry the man I picked for you, or you marry Princess Kara. End of discussion. You leave for Hummel tomorrow morning.” Without another word, the king turned abruptly and re-entered the castle, leaving behind a very crestfallen and confused Prince Blaine.

* * *

Prince Kurt didn’t know what to make of the fact that he was already being set up for marriage. His newfound family had been incredibly understanding, and had assured him they would find him the perfect man. Kurt was doubtful. He had already found him. And now, even as a royal, he was never going to see him again.

But he had more important things to focus on that day. That evening was to be his grand reception, together with the celebration of his eighteen years. He was on edge all day; he knew what the curse foretold. His father had been wary when he had informed him over breakfast that he was going to spend most of the day working on his clothes (he finally knew where the material came from). But it was the only way he could calm his raging nerves. He assured his father that he would be careful, and had shut himself up inside his new workroom.

He was so focused on his embroidery that he failed to notice a fox slinking in the shadow, something in its mouth. He didn’t notice that the fox quietly slipped the object in his pile of to-be-used cloths and slipped out the door. Absentmindedly, Kurt reached into the pile of material, searching for a small scrap when he suddenly felt a prick. He just barely got a glance at the dreaded spindle the fox had deposited and a red spec blooming from his finger before he passed out cold, lost in an unwakeable slumber. As if on cue, the entire castle followed suit.

The entire castle, that is, except for the Faeries. They were not bound by the same rules as the mortals. Emma sighed when she discovered Kurt’s limp body, shaking her head. “I knew we should have waited to tell him,” she muttered.

Will took her hand. “What’s done is done,” he said grimly. With the help of Sheldon, Will helped move Kurt to his bedroom, dressing him in his most prized outfit. Emma took a rose out of the vase on the windowsill, cast a few spells on it, and slipped it into his still hands, now crossed on his lap.

“You know what we have to do now, right?” Sheldon asked.

Emma nodded. “We have to find his Prince Charming.”

* * *

Prince Blaine sighed as he finished his meal. He had reached the Land of Hummel, but it was late, so he decided to stay the night in an inn in the nearby village. He wanted to put off this meeting as long as possible, enjoying his final few hours of freedom. And by enjoy, he really meant to drown his sorrows in a frothy beverage.

He didn’t drink too much, just enough so he wouldn’t have to think about that boy. He had to accept the fact that he was marrying this Prince Kurt, because there was no way he was marrying Princess Kara.

“Penny for your thoughts?” the serving wench, Terri, asked as he contemplated getting a second ale.

“Just business,” he replied sadly. That’s all this marriage was, after all. Business.

“Hope it doesn’t involve the castle,” she quipped dryly, eyeing his clothes.

Blaine froze. “Why?”

She looked at him, shocked. “Haven’t you heard? The curse finally came to be. Prince Kurt and the entire royal household is locked in a deep sleep.”

Blaine frowned. “Prince Kurt?”

Terri shrugged, pulling a scrap of paper out of her pocket. “Here, read all about it.”

It turned out to be much more difficult than that. When Blaine took the paper, his heart skipped a beat. Smiling up at him was the boy from the woods. The person in the picture was named as Prince Kurt, his betrothed. He stood up swiftly, throwing money at Terri before quickly making his way outside. He scanned the article quickly, his eyes resting on the last line. _The fate of our dear Prince, and our Kingdom, relies on true love’s kiss._

 _“_ I have to get to Kurt,” he muttered under his breath, racing in the direction of the castle.

“I don’t think so,” a harsh voice called out from behind. Blaine whipped around, hand on the hilt of his sword. His action was impeded as a fox leaped at his hand, distracting him. A tall woman in garishly red clothing approached. “You, my messy haired friend, are taking a little trip with me.” She shot a red glittery beam at him with her horn, knocking Blaine unconscious. She unceremoniously slung Blaine over her shoulder as she quickly departed, calling for the fox to follow. “Now they shall sleep forever, and I shall rule the land!”

The three Goodfaeries, who had witnessed the whole encounter looked at each other worriedly. “That was him, wasn’t it.” Will asked.

Emma nodded. “It fits Kurt’s description. And his clothes, he’s certainly from Andersonia. We were right about that prince being Kurt’s mystery man after all.”

“Well,” Sheldon interceded. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go get him out of Badfaerie Sylvester’s evil clutches.”

* * *

Blaine woke up, dazed and confused. And cramped. He rolled over, hearing the distinct rustling of straw beneath him. He opened his eyes cautiously, taking in his surroundings. He was in a dark, dank cell with bars on a small window looking to the outside. There was a door leading the opposite direction, but it was locked. Not that he expected otherwise.

Kurt. He had to get to Kurt. But how could he trapped who knows where?

“Your highness,” a small voice hissed from the outside window. “Over here.”

Blaine scrambled over and looked outside into the dark night, only to recoil in shock. He, or rather a very good imitation of himself was staring back at him. “Who are you?”

“A friend of Kurt,” the other him replied, supplying no other information. “Now step back, we’re going to get you out of here.”

Blaine frowned. “We?”

His double tapped gently on the bars, which suddenly became limp as rope. He slipped into the cell, gesturing Blaine over. “Come on, quickly. I’ll be able to fool her for a little while, buy you some time, give you a head start. But you have to get out of here. Now.”

Blaine nodded, letting the man help lift him to the window. “Thank you. I don’t know how to repay-”

“Just help Kurt,” the man replied.

“I will.” Blaine felt the fresh night air on his face. He looked around, startled to see two Goodfaeries standing nearby. “Are you with…” he gestured to the cell he had just vacated.

The redheaded faerie nodded. “Yes, but come. We must get started. We will help speed the journey along, but it is best not to delay. Come, take our hands.”

Blaine didn’t know why, but he trusted these strange faeries. He reached out to them and instantly they were flying above the ground, traveling faster than ever possible on horseback. Blaine shut his eyes, the blurred motion making him dizzy. Soon enough, he felt his feet touch the ground and he tumbled unceremoniously. He stood quickly, turning to the faeries. “Thank you,”

“You’re welcome,” the redhead told him kindly. “But now your fate is out of our hands.”

“But, we have something for you,” the other faerie informed him, reaching into a pocket. He withdrew a sword much longer than should have been able to fit in his clothes unseen. Blaine supposed it must be magic. “This sword will protect you from Badfaerie Sylvester. Not entirely, but it is the best we can offer.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled again.

“Now go,” the faeries instructed almost harshly.

Blaine didn’t need to be told twice.

* * *

He was just approaching the castle when brambles shot out of the ground in front of him. “Where do you think you’re going, Sir Gallahad?” a now somewhat familiar voice jeered. Blaine turned to face the Badfaerie.

“You aren’t going to stop me. There is magic more powerful than your hate.”

Badfaerie Sylvester snorted. “Please, mortal, enlighten me.”

“True love.”

“Oh, and you’re the Lady’s soulmate? You barely know him.”

“Sometimes you just know. And don’t insult my future husband.”

The Badfaerie snorted. “Foolish child, you don’t know who you are messing with. Suddenly she sent out a stream of fire directly at Blaine, who blocked it with his sword.

"Good thing I came prepared.” Blaine muttered, charging her with his weapon. They battled for what seemed like hours, Blaine barely surviving, knowing he owed it all to the faerie blade. But he couldn’t last much longer. He had to get inside the castle. He dodged as his sudden distraction had left an opening for her blasted fox. It was as if the little mongrel purposely was trying to keep him apart from Kurt. Instinctively, he lashed out with the sword, somehow catching the creature with the blade, slicing him in two, red blood spilling everywhere.

The Badfaerie let out a horrified shriek. “You killed him,” she finally gasped, glaring at Blaine.

“I suppose so,” Blaine replied, barely holding himself together. He knew that the monster would have killed him if given the chance, but it was still an animal. He hated killing things, one of the reasons he never took to hunting as sport.

The Badfaerie whipped her horn at him, spewing more fire, much more wildly this time. Blaine managed to block it once more with his blade, but this time it rebounded, hitting the Badfaerie square in the chest. She cried out in horror as the magic fire consumed her body and what was left of her shrivelled soul, finally falling to ash before his feet. Blaine panted, suddenly able to take a break, his adrenaline quickly fading as his safety was assured. He glanced at the overgrowth. He half hoped that it would die with it’s caster’s death, but it remained, strong and thorny as ever.

Which meant that more likely than not, the castle was still enchanted as well.

Blaine lifted the sword and began hacking at the branches, making progress only from the enchantments of the blade. He finally made it to the castle gate, which had been in the process of opening as the spell was cast, allowing him to slip in. It was eerie, seeing everyone fast asleep, clearly in the middle of preparations for a feast, the food for which had begun to rot as it sat unattended for day upon day. He rushed inside, only to pause. He had no idea where to even begin.

He stuffed his hands inside his pocket, slipping against the tie Kurt had dropped when they first met. Without thinking, Blaine’s hands flew to his neck, affixing the object to himself. His feet began to move on their own accord, and suddenly he was twisting and turning around corners and up stairs until he came to a wooden door with a fancy letter K freshly engraved onto its surface. Blaine pushed on the door, and it opened without a sound. He gasped as his eyes landed on the bed.

It was the same boy, alright, just as beautiful as he had been in the forest. But he was lying so sill, clutching the rose in his sleep. “Kurt?” he whispered, knowing full well his voice wouldn’t wake the young man before him. He sat down next to Kurt on the bed, careful not to disturb him. “I’m going to kiss you now, I hope that’s okay. I know you freaked out last time.” No response. “But I have to do it or you’ll never wake up.” A voice in his head chided that he might not wake up from the kiss, he might not be his true love. But he had to try.

Blaine cupped Kurt’s beautiful face in his hands. “I love you, Kurt,” he muttered. “I don’t know why or how, but I do. Please wake up.” He leaned over, pressing his lips gently against Kurt’s in a chaste kiss. The other boy was still. Blaine sighed, pulling back, heart shattering in a million pieces, tears welling up in his eyes. He stood, knowing he couldn’t stay any longer without being reminded of his failure.

He started when something wrapped around his wrist just as he was leaving the bed. It was a hand. Kurt’s hand. Blaine’s gaze darted to the prince’s face, which was slowly fluttering into alertness. It had worked after all. “Don’t go,” Kurt mumbled, looking at him with tired, earnest eyes. Blaine couldn’t say no to that.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Kurt nodded, biting his lip. Perhaps his betrothal could be rearranged. Clearly his father would see that this was his true love. “Can you kiss me again? I need to know that this is real. That you’re real.”

Blaine grinned. “I’m as real as it gets,” He bent down to press his lips against Kurt’s once more, only this time the boy underneath him responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck. They stayed like that, consumed in each other, until the door of the room flew wide open.

King Burt entered, looking furious. “What are you doing to my son?” he demanded.

Blaine scurried off of Kurt, who finally moved into a seated position. “Dad, no, it’s okay. He did it. He broke the curse.”

Burt’s face changed almost instantly. “Really?”

Kurt nodded. “Yeah. This is my true love.”

Blaine stood up from the bed, bowing down to the king. “Prince Blaine of Andersonia, your highness. I believe I am betrothed to Kurt, if he will have me.”

“Wait,” Kurt muttered disbelievingly. “You’re Prince Blaine? You’re my match?” Blaine nodded, looking at him shyly.

“Is that okay?”

Kurt practically leaped out of bed, wincing after not moving for so long. “It’s better than okay.”

Burt clapped his hands in joy. “Well, then, I think that we have a feast long overdue. Celebration is in order! Welcome to our kingdom, Prince Blaine.” He had almost departed when he turned around once more. “And thank you,” he added softly before slipping away.

They were alone at last. “I can’t believe it’s you,” Kurt muttered as he slipped into Blaine’s arms.

“I know,”

A hand stroked the front of his shirt. “My tie…you kept it?”

Blaine shrugged, embarrassed. “It reminded me of you. It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, I made it.”

Blaine looked at him disbelievingly. “You did?”

Kurt smirked. “You’ll soon discover I am a man of many talents.”

Blaine grinned. “I look forward to that. But I should give this back to you.” He moved to remove the tie, but Kurt stopped him.

“Keep it. It looks better on you.”

“Doubtful, but thanks,”

Kurt shook his head. “I should be the one thanking you,”

Blaine frowned. “I don’t want this to be all about the saving the damsel in distress thing. Not that I think you’re like a girl, because you’re not. I mean…you don’t owe me anything, we’re equals, Kurt.”

“I know,” Kurt replied softly. “But we weren’t always. You treated me like a prince even before I knew I was one. And it meant the world to me, it still does.”

Blaine blushed. “It was nothing.”

“It was, trust me.” Kurt bit his lip. “Why me, though?”

Blaine stroked Kurt’s cheek, tilting his head so they looked eye to eye. “You move me, Kurt. I know it sounds ridiculous, but suddenly there you were, like I had been waiting for you forever and then…”

“There I was?.”

“There you were,” Blaine agreed.

Kurt pressed another light kiss to his lips. “And we all live happily ever after now, right?”

Blaine grinned, his heart wanting to explode with joy. “That’s the plan.”


End file.
